I am brightly opening my leaves
To hug you
And hug the sun
I am keenly attuned to the sound
Of birds and bees
Even though my petals are weak
I can barley grab or stick to them
I can see through me
But not through you
So, open your mind I might see
Through you again
Mornings aren't the same
Since you put me
In a flower glass
Bended and hunched down
I am withering slowly
To something else
Or
It's
Just
Me
Thinking about you
Going to change this water
That have been mixed
With my color
Like watercolors
but
I might just be the ugliest
Painting you have ever painted
And whenever,
I gaze through the flower glass
the sun reflects its beams on me
Peacefully scattered to caress
I can feel its warmth immensely
Penetrating into my sepals
Like a croft garnished beautifully
YOU ARE READING
Flowers From The Old Tree
Poetry'I open my eyes more often to see beautiful things in ugly things because nowadays no one is appreciating the beauty in the ugliness.' This collection of poems is a pile of papers that were lost and mostly ripped off, i could really relate to the...
